


Heaven

by estherrrmarieee (esstiel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, General mention of sexual activities, M/M, Prompt Fic, sad!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esstiel/pseuds/estherrrmarieee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel just wants the human experience; Dean forgets just how human he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven

It's simple, at first. Cas just wants the human experience, wants to know what makes falling so appealing to some angels. He wants to know what it's like to eat the best foods, drink the best beer, sleep on the softest beds, breathe in the cleanest air. The angel finds a way to suppress his grace enough to enjoy the moments the same as any mortal man, though he won't tell Dean how he's done it.

Dean doesn't mind, though. It just means he can show Cas all the stuff he's wanted to in the past, and he knows he'll actually appreciate it. 

With Dean's help, Castiel learns that he loves spaghetti but hates lasagna; he quite enjoys lagers and beer with deep flavor and turns his nose up at the cheap swill Sam and Dean seem to have no problem drinking; he loves the feel of cotton on his skin, especially when it's one of Dean's t-shirts fresh from the dryer.

And he's been wearing Dean's clothes quite a bit in their few moments of peace, what with how much time he spends in the hunter's room, in the hunter's bed, experiencing just another aspect of humanity.

It's, hands down, Dean's favorite part of showing Cas what it's like to be human. There's nothing quite like having a wrecked, bitten and bruised angel writhing under his body as he finds more ways to make him squirm and gasp, nothing quite like having a hard cock heavy in his hand, against his tongue. It's fun and exciting, broadening Castiel's sexual horizons the same way he's broadened everything else.

But they agreed beforehand that it would be purely a friends with benefits situation, with Castiel as the student and Dean his teacher. 

It was easy, at first, to keep it that way. Dean still bar hopped and slept around, still flirted his way through every male and female he laid eyes on. As time went on, though, as he spent more and more time with Castiel, curled up in bed with the angel, legs tangled and hands exploring, it became harder and harder for Dean to disconnect himself enough to make a pass at anyone else.

And now?

The thought of touching someone else sexually, of even flirting with someone else makes his stomach roil. Dean keeps up appearances though, winking salaciously at waitresses and waggling his eyebrows at men whose gazes linger on him too long, but his heart's not in it. All he can think about is a lithe body, a chest scarred with sigils, long roving fingers, blue piercing eyes.

Sam's notices this change in Dean and shows it with raises eyebrows and questioning glances when Dean fails to follow through with yet another pretty and willing one night stand, but he doesn't voice any of his questions or thoughts. Dean's grateful. How the hell is he supposed to tell his brother that he's fallen head over heels for an angel? How can he tell his brother he's fallen in love with someone that's not human after giving him such a hard time about Ruby? So he keeps his mouth shut and has his way with Castiel in the dead of night, wherever Castiel decides to beam them off to for privacy. Dean constantly battles with whether or not to tell Castiel about how he feels, but in the end keeps his mouth shut instead of tipping the scale.

It's not perfect, but it's working.

And then it all falls apart when Dean wakes up one day and Castiel's gone.

He's not in their safe house, he's not answering his phone, he's not responding to any of Dean's prayers, and even summoning him doesn't work. By the end of the week Dean's frantic, practically pulling his hair out with worry as Sam calls all of their contacts, anyone and everyone who may know anything about where Castiel might be or how to get a hold of him.

It's about two weeks later, two weeks of restless sleep and constant drinking, that they hear the news.

Every angel, every single heavenly being, is gone from the face of the earth, and any attempt to contact an angel is met with radio silence.

At first Dean refuses to believe it and keeps looking for Castiel, keeps leaving him voice mails and text messages, keeps praying to him before he lays in bed each night, missing the warm body beside him, the arm around his waist, the nose nuzzling into his neck.

Dean misses the innocent and oblivious questions, the tilted head, the hawk like stare, the small smiles, the wrinkled nose, the childlike wonder. He misses Castiel like an amputee misses his limb, only instead of a limb its more like someone's run off with his heart and soul.

No matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, he can't get in touch with Castiel, and all he feels is regret.

All those months when he could have fessed up and told Cas, all those missed opportunities, and now there won't be any more to be had.

He holds off the grief as long as he can, but finally snaps one day and takes off in the Impala, flying down a back country road towards the setting sun. Only when the world swims in tears does he finally pull over on the side of the road, let the first tear slide down his cheek as he falls to his knees on the hot pavement. He wants to scream, to shout and rage, but all he can do is stare at the heavens.

The heavens that brought his angel, his Cas; the heavens that took him away and, with him, Dean's heart.


End file.
